


eighth of a semibreve

by kurgaya



Category: Naruto
Genre: Banter, Blank Period, Chronic Pain, Don't copy to another site, Drabble, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Fourth Shinobi War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 23:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18108410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: Today will be bad. Gai accepts this with a slow, counted breath, and tries not to think about the shell of his former self that he’s become.[Post-Fourth Shinobi War. A slow morning. It's about want not deserve].





	eighth of a semibreve

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this in a fit of anger on the train home last night because I'd had a shit pain day and lol _can you tell?_

The challenge of the day is everything.

“You'll probably be sore, tomorrow,” Gai's physiotherapist had said the morning before, scribbling away on his noteboard. Gai has been nothing _but_ sore for the last three months, but he nodded as though this is new to him. He's always _more_ sore after introducing a new exercise to his physio: his leg hates this slow, relentless recovery almost as much as Gai does. At least when Gai complains, it's just to a rant of words (and occasionally tears) to his dinner. But when his body complains, it's a firestorm of nerve pain and muscular dystrophy that could have Gai bedridden for days. He refuses to lie around and let his injuries win, however, but it turns out that his spine is just as stubborn as he is. Recovery feels like a vicious cycle that Gai can never win, and the fact that his arch nemesis today is _moving_ only reinforces the point.

He woke up sore, as expected. He expects it everyday, but this morning more than usual. Walking, in the grand scheme of things, isn't _too_ bad, but rising and sitting seems to employ the use of muscles that have shrivelled up and died overnight. He pushes out from the bed and then seems to _stick_ halfway to his feet, freezing in place, hunched over like an old man. After a mini-meltdown, his legs seem to remember how to straighten, and Gai carefully begins to limp across the room. Once he’s up and about, he’s pleased to find that the stiffness eases away - until the usual nerve pain kicks in, anyway, and the base of his spine begins to burn the day’s flame.

He endeavours to go about his day as normal. He hasn’t been on a run since he opened the Eighth Gate, but other exercises are accessible. As a shinobi of Konoha, it’s his _duty_ to remain in shape. Slipping into yoga or meditative poses is a little trickier than it used to be (and there are some stretches that his body simply _will not do_ ), but Gai is nothing if not adaptable. But when he rolls out the exercise mat and bends down to his knees, his legs just - don’t. Not just his bad leg but _both_ of them, and Gai has to catch himself on the wall as half of his body attempts to kneel and the other half - the _important for kneeling half_ \- refuses to move.

Pain burns down the back of his thigh - but that’s normal. The deep, swelling soreness in his calves is unexpected: his knees are almost shaking with the effort of indecision - to bend or to stand? Refusing to be beat, Gai forces his knees to collapse and he falls - quite literally, falls - onto the exercise mat. The _thunk!_ snaps Kakashi out of a doze; he rolls over just as Gai relieves some of the weight from his legs, leaning forward onto his hands. It’s not, in any way, the position he intended to be in, but his hip is tingling in protest and his legs have turned to stone. Gai waits for the surge of pain to pass, knowing that if he poked his bad leg now, his thigh and the back of his knee would be numb and cool to the touch.

“Hey,” Kakashi says, voice thick with sleep. He’s a mound of bedsheets and cotton-white hair out of the corner of Gai’s eye, and he wiggles to the edge of the bed with the disorientation of a newborn puppy. Kakashi only sleeps deeply in spaces where he feels safe, and though one of those few places is Gai’s apartment, for the longest time, it wasn’t. (For the longest time, Kakashi didn’t feel safe anywhere, haunted by his failures and family no matter where he slept). Kakashi’s not a morning person in any circumstance, but jolted awake from the depths of his slumber is a circumstance that results in a sluggish, nonsensical mind. His thoughts seem to spin like the tomoe of his sharingan - alert, always alert, but trapped in a body trying to drag him to sleep. Watching Kakashi stumble around in the early morning is the most delightful, _hilarious_ thing, and Gai smiles despite the pain, helpless not to as Kakashi smushes his face into the duvet and sighs.

“It’s barely dawn, love, go back to sleep.”

“Mfph,” says Kakashi. He doesn’t lift his head. One of his feet rises up like a cat’s commanding tail and kicks the duvet onto the floor.

Gai would very much like to shove his fingers through Kakashi’s bed-head hair and make it worse, but that requires moving the insurmountable three-feet to the bed. Specifically, it requires _getting to his feet_ , and Gai isn’t sure that his body will cooperate with him right now. Instead, he inches himself into a meditative position, wincing with his eyes fluttering shut all the while, and hopes it will lessen the complaint from his back. Nerves are tricky things; they don’t like to be prodded, as he’s discovered, and they’ll spark and seethe and hold a grudge for _months_. Perhaps a little cruelly, Gai can only liken them to Kakashi - for he, too, will spark when he’s prodded and prefers to ignore the source of a problem instead of fixing it himself.

Kakashi can be reasoned with, though. Gai’s body ignores his every plea.

Today will be bad. Gai accepts this with a slow, counted breath, and tries not to think about the shell of his former self that he’s become.

(The Eighth Gate should’ve killed him. On bad days, he ruminates over that _should’ve_ ).

“Hey,” Kakashi says for the second time - and what he’ll probably think is the first. He lifts his head this time, revealing a yawn of dog-like pointy teeth. There’s an indent in his cheek from the pillow but that will fade: his beauty-mark will not. “You want eggs for breakfast? I think we have eggs…”

Gai switches positions. He has to grab his ankle and yank his bad leg to where he wants it, but his body eventually gives in. It feels like his bones are on _fire_ but he perseveres: he will not admit defeat this early in the morning, not when there’s a whole day ahead.

It will be a long day. He dreads it.

“I can make breakfast,” he assures.

Kakashi’s reply is an easy, “All right,” as he rolls out of bed. That he’s wearing nothing but his boxers offers Gai a wonderful view as he slouches over. He kneels down without difficulty and presses a kiss into Gai’s cheek, one of his hands carefully gripping Gai’s arm. (Kakashi used to balance himself on Gai’s thigh but he hasn’t been recently, which is a relief. Constant, debilitating pain sets Gai on edge. He never means to snap, and certainly not at Kakashi, but people _touching him_ while he’s in agony is something Gai just cannot allow).

Gai kisses him back, just catching his jaw. Kakashi smiles, almost sleepy with it, and runs his fingers down the back of Gai’s neck. He does this for a few seconds, and then a few seconds more, and then with a look in his eyes that Gai is beginning to loathe, he asks, “D’you want me to fetch your chair?”

(It’s not pity. It’s _sadness_ ).

(It’s not anger that Gai feels. It’s shame).

“I - please.” Gai doesn't watch as Kakashi moves about the room. The wheelchair is just another shinobi tool, an asset, a weapon (in the right hands) to wield. But Gai has never liked depending on weapons, preferring to use his body rather than an arsenal of gear. “My physio yesterday -”

“Hmm, he said you’d be sore,” Kakashi remembers, bringing the wheelchair closer.

Even right next to Gai, the wheelchair has never seemed so far away. His muscles twist in anticipation, his nerves worrying. He had such trouble getting _down_ to the floor that he's not sure how well he can rise. Usually, his pain is an ever-present obstacle but his body, for the most part, functions in spite of it. But today, Gai is sore in places where he isn't usually sore (and even _sorer_ in places where he normally is) and as he stares over at the wheelchair, his body simply will not _stand_.

He has experienced fatigue like this before, but never from a few basic exercises. Gai sucks in his lips and tries - and fails - not to feel humiliated. The fed-up part of his mind would like for Kakashi to leave so not to witness Gai fumbling into the chair by himself, but the part of him that loves and is loved knows that he needs help, and he knows that Kakashi will give it without saying a word.

Gai sighs and that’s - enough. Kakashi crouches down and offers his arm, placing his other hand upon Gai’s back. Gai takes it and then - for a long, silent moment, neither of them move. Gai isn’t sure he can even though he wants to. Then Kakashi’s fingers begin to pitter-patter and Gai thinks of the chakra-cinders of his Eighth Gate, of the blistering and peeling of his skin. He shivers - shudders, really - and Kakashi’s forehead drops _thunk!_ against his shoulder before Gai can level his breath to speak.

“I hate seeing you like this,” Kakashi mutters, and Gai’s chest _seizes_. “Is there anything I can do?”

Sadness swells up behind Gai’s eyes. He wants to apologise but he knows it would do no good: he doesn’t regret opening the Eighth Gate, not even for a second. He hates the pain that Kakashi and his precious students have felt, but if it meant protecting them, Gai would unearth and tear open a _Ninth_ Gate if such a thing existed.

“No. I made my choice.”

Kakashi presses his nose into Gai’s neck. “That doesn't mean you deserve this.”

That may or may not be true, but now isn’t the time to argue. Gai pats Kakashi’s knee. “We don't often get what we deserve, do we?”

This time, it's Kakashi who shudders, his breath a gentle flame across Gai's neck. Far too late, Gai realises how that might be interpreted and wishes to retract it, unwilling to call forth the most painful memories in Kakashi's mind.

“Ah -”

“It's fine,” Kakashi whispers. “Don't say anything.” He turns his face so that his chin is propped up on Gai's shoulder. His hair tickles Gai's cheek like the endless pins and needles in his thigh. Gai might wince, he’s not sure, but Kakashi picks up on something: “You in pain?”

“Always, love,” he replies, but to soften the blow he adds, “Even my _butt_ is sore.”

Kakashi laughs quietly. “I thought you liked it like that.”

Gai smiles: his Rival is such a predictable man. “I do, I assure you. But it's a different kind of soreness. One is much more fun.”

“I'd hope so,” Kakashi says, leaning back. He looks over to the wheelchair and then past it, to where the orange dawn spills into the room. He grins, sharp teeth poking from his mouth. “Otherwise breakfast is going to be sorry-I've-been-reading-your-signals-wrong-all-this-time eggs.”

Gai - _laughs_. “Not if _I’m_ making them,” he declares, thinking about it for half a second. “If I make them, they’ll be an-eternity-with-you-will-never-be-enough eggs.”

“Oh _god_ ,” Kakashi groans, and he shoves Gai playfully like the boys they never used to be. “Your sappiness will be the end of me.”

Gai gasps in mock offence. “I thought you liked it like that? _Rival_ -”

“ _No_. No. It’s too early for - I’ll go back to bed.”

“You can’t threaten me with something you’re already planning on doing -”

“I can and I _will_ ,” Kakashi says, and in one, seamless motion, before Gai’s body can even prepare itself to complain, he pulls Gai up and into the wheelchair. Gai blinks - in fact, his whole body seems to blink, his pain fizzling out in the few seconds of stupor - and Kakashi’s grin only widens. “I saw an opportunity,” he says at Gai’s accusing glare. “Worked though, didn’t it? I’m making breakfast. If I eat your eggs, I might _die_.”

Gai grumbles but acquiesces. He can’t really be mad when Kakashi is smiling, and _Kakashi_ can’t really be mad when Gai slaps his barely-covered arse because they’re all about seizing opportunities in this household, apparently.

(“Maybe you should seize something else,” Kakashi mumbles to him later, and Gai almost snorts a cup of tea up his nose).

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [badthingshappen](https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/) bingo with the prompt "shaking and shivering". This can be taken as belonging to the same universe as [Remedy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17811260). This one's set about 9 months before Remedy.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Any and all comments are appreciated.


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